


Cruel is the Golden Rule

by Vixen13



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, Desperation Play, Established Relationship, M/M, Men Crying, Omorashi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Watersports, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 12:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29314437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vixen13/pseuds/Vixen13
Summary: Peter really has to pee. Wade is unusually quiet. Peter discovers a new kink. Wade gets to experience a long-held fantasy.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson
Comments: 25
Kudos: 189





	Cruel is the Golden Rule

**Author's Note:**

> For someone that doesn't have this kink, I sure get talking into writing it easily. Maybe it's because I like desperation which is a crossover of denial (which IS my kink).
> 
> Also, the pwp is more in the "plotless" realm since actual smut doesn't happen. Rating is just for excruciating details included. lol
> 
> This was encouraged by the Bromantic servers. They're all a bunch of enablers. lol

Movie night was a regular event for them. They curled up on the couch and marathoned whatever they were in the mood for, usually with large bowls of popcorn, piles of snacks, and a few two liters of various sugary drinks. They splayed on the ratty sofa in a variety of positions, always touching each other in some way, even if it was just their toes meeting on the back of the cushions as they hung upside down over the seat.

Tonight, Peter was sitting curled in Wade’s lap, warm and cozy but far from comfortable. He was invested in the movie, riveted to the screen, but he’d downed 4 liters of soda so far and had yet to have a bathroom break. Every time he squirmed, Wade ran soothing hands down his sides and along his inner thighs until he settled. Unusually, Wade wasn’t babbling about the special effects, making it easier for Peter to remain focused on the climactic action sequence.

A glass of water moved into Peter’s vision, so he took it and drank. His mouth was sticky from so much sugar, his teeth feeling like he had sweaters on them. He guzzled the water only to find it refilled a moment later. He muttered his thanks, though Wade only responded by rubbing Peter’s thigh.

Peter bit his lip. He really needed to pee. It was a burning in his gut, a tug that had him clenching inner muscles. He felt bloated, as if he’d slosh if he moved too fast. He sipped his water more as a distraction. The glass remained full.

His body inevitably rebelled, clamping down with an insistent, sharp jolt that had him squirming again, sucking in a hard breath as he tensed. Wade’s warm hands were back, soothing over the trembling muscles, though it barely helped to calm him. He didn’t want to pause the movie, but it was getting harder to concentrate.

Big hands moved up his thighs, higher and higher, until they slid to Peter’s torso. They cupped the distended belly to be found there, thumbs rubbing small circles too light to feel, but it brought all of Peter’s attention to it. His breaths grew shallow, as taking air too deep put pressure on his overextended bladder. Something on the screen exploded, but Peter couldn’t quite follow what it was or why it was important anymore.

The fingertips on Wade’s hands pressed down, forcing a whine out of Peter. He squirmed again, his eyes watering. Wade shushed the distressed noises so quietly only Peter’s enhanced hearing allowed him to pick it up. Lifting only one hand, Wade pushed on the bottom of the glass forgotten in Peter’s hand. Yes, a distraction would help. Peter drained the glass.

It didn’t help.

The burning increased, spreading through his body in warm waves. He squirmed more, so Wade held him down, pressing firmly on Peter’s lower stomach. It forced a barely restrained shout from Peter’s lips. He clenched his jaw and forced himself to focus on the screen despite the blur and the moisture clinging to his eyelashes. His leg kicked out of its own accord, torso twisting in an effort to create more room inside of him.

Wade’s fingers massaged the heated skin they rested over, digging into the squishy bump found there. Peter panted for breath, his head flying back to dig into Wade’s shoulder. He couldn’t stop the restless movements now, only Wade’s strong arms and solid grip keeping him in place. The credits might be running now. Peter wasn’t sure. He couldn’t concentrate on anything but the stabbing need in his gut.

It felt silly to keep quiet. Surely, he should say something, but words were beyond him now. Wade remained uncannily silent, soaking up every high pitched chirp of noise that embarrassingly slipped from Peter’s throat. His gaze was intense, watching every twist and jerk of Peter’s subdued thrashing. Whenever Peter grunted or outright whined, Wade pressed them a little closer together, increasing the overwhelming pressure.

Warmth trickled from the tip of Peter’s dick just as tears collected in the corners of his eyes. He tensed up, his whole body going rigid, arching backward in a desperate attempt to keep himself contained. Wade stroked Peter’s stomach in long, firm, hot slides of his palms. It made Peter tremble, body overwhelmed with effort and sensation. Wade didn’t relent.

Another drop escaped. Another moan. Another centimeter more of Wade’s hands pressing into Peter’s overfilled body.

He felt too hot. Sweat was beginning to bead along his temples. How long had he been here? The room was quiet. Had it been that way for long? When had the credits ended? Was the water already flushing through his body to fill him even more?

“Wade — ” Peter breathed, unable to get enough air for anything louder. His hand shot up to wrap around the back of Wade’s smooth head, holding on for dear life. It earned him a gentle kiss on the cheek. Peter twisted more.

A trickle this time, trailing down his soft cock, soaking into his boxers. He was ashamed to say he whimpered. Wade’s breathing grew harsh as well.

An old memory came to Peter’s mind of Wade laughingly ticking off a long list of specific fantasies with the strangest kinks. “I want to watch you so desperate not to leave me that you pee yourself and get it all over me,” was what he had said. Peter’s resulting face had sent Wade into a fit of giggles.

Was this it? Was this what Wade hoped would happen? It had become clear some months back that Wade truly did have a bit of a pee kink, though he had never pushed it onto Peter. Since Wade had such a variety of bedroom preferences, Peter slowly discovering whatever intrigued him worked out best for them. Peter hadn’t thought that he’d ever make it to pee or be anywhere in the vicinity of interested.

Yet here he was, shaking, sweating, crying, whining, and staining his pants. He didn’t want to make a mess. He didn’t really want to deal with the humiliation of pissing himself on Wade’s lap. But…Wade was clearly in heaven, so happy he couldn’t speak. Peter wasn’t ready to explore this further, but if his desperation and closeness were the things that pleased Wade, well…

He could hold out a little more.

Clamping down on another wave, one hand gripping hard at Wade’s wrist but not removing it from pressing into him, Peter writhed in Wade’s arms. He allowed himself to be at the man’s mercy, to suffer for him, to deny his needs just to be close a second longer. Peter tilted his head back with lidded eyes, cheeks flushed with exertion. Wade’s face was warped with lust, but he only left the softest of kisses against Peter’s lips.

 _Just a little more,_ Peter said to himself since he couldn’t find the strength to say it out loud. All of his energy was being poured into controlling his biological need.

Peter let the agony show on his face. Wade’s quiet control slipped. His exhale was shaky, a soft groan of pleasure leaking through. His palms pressed harder into Peter’s bladder, undulating against the skin. Peter shouted as fresh tears spilled down his cheeks. He bucked against Wade’s grip, his super strength doing him no favors, only causing Wade’s bulky arms to squeeze him from the sides. He leaked more, the smell of urine drifting up to them, his pants now dark and damp in the crotch.

 _A little more,_ Peter thought.

“I can’t,” Peter whimpered aloud, his voice tiny in a way he’d never heard it.

“Stay a little longer,” Wade murmured. His voice was husky, halfway to wrecked, but still quiet. Peter wasn’t the only one losing control.

The thought sent a bolt of arousal through him, which wasn’t welcome. He moaned, his lower body ready to cramp every muscle it had for how hard he was clenching. Bright pain stabbed through his gut, though it faded just as fast as it began. An erection, however small, was _not_ what he needed right now, but that tone in Wade’s voice always had an effect on him.

Fuck, he ached.

Something clinked, and Peter realized his eyes were screwed shut as he shifted nonstop in Wade’s grip. He fluttered them open to see the water glass, full again, being lifted by Wade. Peter hadn’t even noticed one of the large hands being moved away from him. Belatedly, he realized the other hand was resting gently again, not pressing down. It barely helped.

The glass of water moved closer. Peter moaned in distress. “Please, I can’t, please — ”

“We can take a break once you finish it,” Wade insisted. His voice was soft yet eager. This was clearly part of some fantasy. Peter almost jumped from the couch and ran off to relieve himself.

He didn’t.

He stayed and stared at the glass like it was a villain: evil, threatening, could possibly kill him, and in need of being defeated.

 _Just this,_ Peter thought. _Just this, and then we’ll end it._ His body rebelled at the idea. He was so full, from stomach to everything beyond. He would surely pop like a balloon if any more entered him. Peter’s hand lifted, but it trembled too much to even consider holding the torturous liquid.

Wade sounded ready to cum on the spot when he said, “I’ll help you.”

Peter watched as the glass moved to rest against his chin. None of it spilled when Peter jerked again, fists clenching as he tried to suck everything back in. More leaked from him. More stains formed. Peter parted trembling lips.

It wasn’t a surprise that Wade tilted the glass slowly, taking frequent breaks. The sips were tiny, dragging this out further than Peter thought he’d be able to take. Every gush of cold over his lips and into his mouth sent a jolt of urgency through him. His stomach quivered. At any time, he could have reached up and forced Wade’s hand to tip further back. He could chug it then, maybe try to take it in so fast that it would drip from the corners of his lips, trickle down his chin and throat, and soak into his shirt. The heat on his back from Wade’s body and the cold wetness on his shirt would surely send him bolting to the toilet.

Assuming he’d make it there.

He didn’t do that, though. He fought to keep still, fought to ignore the mortifying feeling of his control slipping right into his pants, and sipped the water as slow as Wade insisted. Their eyes met more than once. Wade was staring like Peter was some divine being. Peter could barely focus on anything other than the rapturous joy on Wade’s face. He no longer had space in his mind to think of the tears running down his cheeks or how much this wasn’t his kink.

All that mattered was the look in Wade’s eyes and the fight against his own body.

The last few swallows of water swirled in the glass, the sound of it ripping a near scream from Peter as he writhed anew. It stayed out of reach even as he settled back down, even though it felt like his body would give way at any moment, heroically clamped muscles or not.

“Beg me for it,” Wade’s husky voice whispered. It was clear by his face that he was lost in some fantasy he’d never thought to obtain.

Peter might have argued, refused, or at least delayed in any other circumstance. Not now. He didn’t have the ability to even think of that. Voice high and breathy, he begged without further coaxing. “Give it to me! I need it. Fill me up more. Please. I want to drink it.”

A near painful sounding moan ripped from Wade’s throat. The glass grew closer. Peter’s eyes fixed on it. His hands gripped and twisted the fabric of Wade’s shirt; his feet scrabbled against the hardwood.

“Please, please, I want it. Let me drink it.”

“Gonna fill you ‘til you burst,” Wade whispered in a daze.

“Please! I need it.”

“Oh, fuck me,” Wade groaned. The glass was already within reach.

“Give it to me. Give it to me. _Giveittome_.”

Peter could barely stay still as the glass pressed against his lips at last. Wade tilted the cup too slowly, only a small stream tickling past Peter’s lips. It was almost too much. He clenched harder. His tongue shot out in an attempt to scrape the water into his mouth faster, causing wet to drip down onto his shirt. Wade moaned. Peter arched up once more. Warmth spread further along Peter’s pants, a tiny trickle making a path down his thigh.

He whined as the water sloppily filled him. He swallowed hard. His stomach ached with how much he contained and no more space to move it elsewhere. He shook so bad that he wasn’t sure he could even stand now that he was able to leave. Wade dropped the glass with a deep moan and gripped Peter’s distended bladder once more, pressing his palms into the bulge and digging his fingers into the soft, hot flesh with relish.

Peter shouted, a short, agonized burst of noise that ripped the air from him. His body surged forward on instinct, causing him to stumble to his feet. He half-ran, half-limped his hunched body across the apartment, the bathroom door slamming against the wall at his entrance.

The seams in his pants popped as he ripped them off, but that didn’t matter. He may as well throw them away at this point. With how wet the crotch was, he didn’t want to ever see them again and remember this moment when he’d peed himself that much in Wade’s lap. He also didn’t bother to stand, as he had little faith in his aim at the moment. He sat down on the toilet but was peeing long before his butt met porcelain.

The groan of relief he let out barely encompassed the state of euphoria he was in. He sagged against the tank, every muscle in his body falling loose. It took a while for reality to seep back into his exhausted mind enough to realize he was sitting the wrong way. Oh well. He folded his arms onto the top of the tank and rested his head on them. In the corner of his eye, his pants hung forlornly around one ankle. He was still peeing.

Somewhere in the apartment, Wade called, “You up for some ice cream next?”

Peter groaned, not really ready to face the reality of what they’d done just yet, but Wade always bought all the best toppings…

“I’ll take that as a yes. I’ll put those ferrero truffles on yours, too!”

Well, at least Wade knew how to distract Peter.

He frowned. Maybe that wasn’t such a good thing, all considering. It was too late to lament that though. The last of Peter’s abused bladder emptied with a sad, extended trickle into the water below. He felt like a worn-out rubber band on the inside. His cheeks burned. He needed to change clothes and head out for ice cream soon. He wouldn’t talk about what had just happened, and Wade wouldn’t push, so it would be fine.

After all, it took a while for Peter to admit he liked certain things. Thankfully, Wade was a patient man.

“I’ll eat that entire thing of fudge straight from the jar,” Peter muttered to himself.

_Flush._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked it!
> 
> http://thatvixenchick.tumblr.com  
> https://twitter.com/The_Vixen13 (nsfw)


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